prayer

Handled or Healed?

/ J. Thorp / Leave a comment

This spring I shared about a homily we heard from Father Columba Jordan, CFR, while visiting Gabe and his fellow postulants in Harlem. Father Columba asked if we were handing our problems over to the Lord or squeezing Him like a stress ball while we tried to handle them ourselves. Surrender is more than admitting we need help or even asking for help—it means relinquishing control and receiving His help, in whatever form it comes.

Fast-forward to this month: After years of talking about it, Jodi and I decided to work on our marriage together by participating in the Healing the Whole Person study at the church this summer. By most measures, our marriage is healthy and strong, but anyone who has spent decades living with the same person can point to areas in need of healing: issues that consistently cause anxiety or anger, conversations that invariably go sideways, little things that drive us crazy in disproportionately big ways. And we don’t want to settle for that.

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So Easy to Love

/ J. Thorp / Leave a comment

Jodi, Lily, and I are just back from visiting Gabriel, who is discerning religious life with the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal (CFRs) in New York City. He is currently living at St. Joseph’s Friary in Harlem. The friary and guest house span two well-worn brownstones on 142nd Street, surrounded by other tall rectangular brick homes of the same era, some operating as rundown rentals, some boarded and empty, and some renovated to fetch premium prices from professionals looking for their own little slice of Manhattan.

The friars are well-known among the lonely and the poor in the neighborhood, and not only by their long, gray habits and sandals. They live simply, own next to nothing, and rely on the unfailing love of God and the generosity of friends and strangers to provide them the means to live and minister. It is not an easy life, and yet they are men of great peace, joy, and laughter. They have walked these streets a long while now, sharing whatever they have with everyone they meet—especially the love of God for all His children.

On Thursday morning, we went with Gabe to the café the CFRs operate on the lower level of the guest house. Three days a week they open the shop to anyone for a cup of coffee and a sandwich, or whatever else the friars have in abundance that day, free of charge.

The regulars are an eclectic mix of literal neighbors who share walls with the friary, along with lonely locals, strays, squatters, and the truly homeless. Some have disabilities, mental health issues, or addictions. Most know each other, and they seem to accept each other as the friars receive all of them—as family. They received us in the same way.

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‘He Makes Me Lie Down in Green Pastures’

/ J. Thorp / Leave a comment

Last weekend we laid my dad to rest. When it came to death, Dad was a practical man: He wasn’t religious himself, and he didn’t want us to spend a lot of money or effort on a funeral. Sorting through his preferences and our own beliefs wasn’t completely straightforward, but I believe Mom managed admirably.

In Dad’s final months, he had shared with her that Psalm 23 was a favorite passage that his Little Grandma used to read to him when he was little. We all prayed it over him, and for him, many times during the final weeks of his life. During the burial, the line that stuck out most to me was, “He makes me lie down in green pastures.”

I believe the Lord has shepherded Dad, and all of us, well these past months.

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MELEE! The Necessity of Close-Combat Evangelization to Secure the Kingdom

/ J. Thorp / 3 Comments
Indeed, the word of God is living and effective, sharper than any two-edged sword, penetrating even between soul and spirit, joints and marrow, and able to discern reflections and thoughts of the heart. No creature is concealed from him, but everything is naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must render an account. – Hebrews 4:12-13
 

As much as I was impressed with the high-tech precision of the Navy SEALS portrayed in Act of Valor—and moved by their sacrifice for our country—I am generally more deeply affected by portrayals of the blunt savagery of older wars. I can marvel at the mathematical elegance of a sniper kill from a mile or more distant, until I recall James Michener’s account of a Polish peasant walking to meet armored and mounted invaders, carrying a length of ash wood he had induced to grow snugly around a few pieces of jagged flint, forming a homemade mace. The time required to grow your own weapon might be long enough to steel yourself to bludgeon an armored man to death, and another, and another. It seems to me that a man who would kill in this way must have the courage of his convictions. There is no hope of distance or anonymity; he must be willing to look his enemy in the eye and get his hands dirty.

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Three recent experiences inspired this essay. [Blogger’s Note: This essay was written in 2012, to be read and critiqued in a men’s group.] The first was the continuation of a friendly debate regarding the best way to engage and challenge non-believers (here and here), in which a friend of mine indicated that the older he gets, the more he feels that polite arguments and sustained discussions are not worth his time. The second was an unexpectedly difficult Lenten struggle to hold my tongue, and the third was a men’s group’s opposition to the Health and Human Services (HHS) mandate. All three of these experiences have in common the issue of when and how we should engage those who think, feel, or believe differently than we do.

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The Final Surrender

/ J. Thorp / Leave a comment

As some of you know, my father in Michigan is suffering from both Parkinson’s and dementia. He is still at home, and my mother is still able to care for him. He’s gentle and good-humored, and I’m grateful to be able to visit as often as I can.

But it’s terrible to watch his decline and the toll it has taken on both him and my mom. He was a machinist, a mechanic, and a builder, with a great engineering mind despite no formal education. Parkinson’s took his hands first, but dementia is worse—and as much as I would like all the time I can get with him, it’s hard to see him like this.

I’ve prayed for healing, and I know God could do it in an instant if He wants—but so far that’s not His plan. So what should I pray for?

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